


Rotten Apples

by gotta_write_them_all (sailorsally)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: I haven't written in eons, M/M, Multi, and Thomas won't have any of it, as always James has major guilt issues, oh well, so I'm not very confident this is any good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorsally/pseuds/gotta_write_them_all
Summary: Thomas confronts James about his feelings for Silver.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 16
Kudos: 77





	Rotten Apples

“You are allowed to touch him, you know. You don’t have to hide it,” Thomas’ voice reaches him from the doorway.

James hand stills, digits suspended in the air like the lifeless limbs of an old crumbling tree that’s dreading the wind it knows is coming. For a slight moment, he can feel the ghost of loose curls flowing in palm, a fresh memory followed by the bitter taste of guilt in his mouth.  
His fingers hover over the edge of the basket that’s laid out in front of him, full of fruit he plucked earlier in their garden. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate seeing it,” he says trying to sound unfazed as he picks up an apple to inspect it for bruising. He can hear Thomas approach and stop behind him. The back of his head burns where the other man’s gaze is fixed. He knows he should turn around, at least look at him. 

He can’t.

It has been a full month since John Silver walked into their home and Thomas had to restrain James in this very kitchen just moments later. Everything James had been keeping bottled up had come unscrewed then, the moment his eyes landed on John.

James had been confused feeling so many different emotions at once. Fury had been the most familiar one so he had held on to it, willing to see Silver’s blood sip through the cracks of their kitchen floor.

The anger is all gone by now, replaced by an endless need to touch, to feel, to ensure that John really is here, under James’ roof, under his palms. Warm and alive. 

“Why? Do you think of me as unable to come to terms with sharing you?” Thomas speaks again and James thinks he can hear the irritation in his voice.  
Or maybe it’s bitterness?  
He wishes it was bitterness. It would be so much easier after all.

“Because you know I have done it before.”

Oh, James knows. He remembers it all too well. Their time in London, the thrill of it. Mingling of minds and bodies and how it had felt right for the first time. Being intoxicated by a newfound sense of freedom as unspeakable thoughts were uttered out loud under the Hamiltons’ roof and forbidden ideas took solid form in front of his eyes. The sense of purposeful belonging, of a newfound home. 

A fleeting impression of happiness but somehow a persistent one all the same. James has spent a lifetime as Flint trying to distance himself from it, wring his heart dry and let the flesh wither only to stand here, a lifetime later and be reminded. Sometimes, James hates Thomas’ kindness.

“Or perhaps you think you can’t possibly have enough love for two people?”

James doesn’t answer. But then it isn’t a question, is it? Few things are ever a question with Thomas Hamilton. And even if it were one, he wouldn’t be able to answer it. Not without hurting him.

He knows he loves Thomas. At times it has been the only truth he’s known for sure. It has sustained him all those years they spent apart but it’s not the only truth anymore.

“Because we both know it isn’t true. Miranda knew it too,” Thomas continues.

It’s cruel. Thomas has always had little regard for things that shall remain unspoken. James used to admire it before. Now, suspended between two worlds, running from new truths, he finds it exhausting. 

James sighs. “This is different,” he says to the room, wishing it would be enough and the other man would finally be merciful enough to drop the subject, but having little faith in it knowing how Thomas is. 

“Different how?” Thomas continues his torments.  
He walks around the table and stops in front of James.  
“Talk to me, James. Please.” Thomas begs him. When James finally looks at him, his face is full of concern and he feels even more guilty than moments ago.

_How does he say that he spent the last two years trying to reassemble himself with pieces moulded from ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’? How does he explain the measure of relief he had felt beating Silver into a pulp that night because, for a moment, it had felt like he knew who he was again?_

“I’m not entirely the man you fell in love with,” he confessed in the end.  
It’s the truth, even if it's not all of it. 

Thomas’ face softens. He steps closer taking James’ hand in his and presses his lips to James’ knuckles.  
“That’s alright because neither am I,” he tells James and suddenly James feels like weeping. 

Instead, his hand reaches out to stroke Thomas’ cheek. It’s a way of telling himself, once again, that this here now should be enough. But it isn’t. He knows it and apparently so does Thomas. It breaks his heart.

“I spent so much time trying to hate him. But I can’t, Thomas, I can’t. He gave you back to me.”

He can no longer deny it. Not to himself and nor to Thomas.  
He loves John Silver the most now - looking into Thomas’ watery eyes, slightly lighter blues than Silver’s and oh so alive.

“Oh, James,” Thomas covers James’ hand with his, his thumb gently stroking James’. 

“It’s not only that,” he continues,” You and Miranda had a life together before I-”  
_‘Before I loved you? Before I ruined everything? Which is it?’_  
It doesn’t matter because somehow it’s all the same and he can’t bring himself to say any of it out loud. 

“James, darling,” Thomas pushes his chin up, makes James look at him, “the ‘first come first serve’ rule doesn’t apply to love.”

“It’s not fair to you” James murmurs more to himself than to Thomas, averting his eyes. 

Thomas tightens his grip on James’ neck making James turns his gaze back to him.

“Please let me decide what is fair to me and what isn’t. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life with people deciding it for me.” Thomas says and James feels anger stir deep in his belly. He finds it soothing. 

“Besides, is it fair on Mr Silver? We all have been miserable long enough, don’t you think?” Thomas sighs. His face falls for a second and it makes James stomach drop too.

“We all deserve happiness. All of us. Even you,” he pulls James closer and presses his forehead against James’, “Allow us - yourself - some happiness.”

Thomas brushes his thumb against James’ cheek, worrying the wrinkle that runs to the corner of his mouth.  
“Can you do that?”  
James, wordless, pulls him into a kiss.

“I want to know all of you,” Thomas tells him resting his forehead against James after they break apart, “even if knowing all of you means knowing parts of Mr Silver,” he smiles at James slyly making sure James understands what he just implied and has to chuckle when James’ lets out a surprised “oh”.


End file.
